


Acceptance

by last kenobi (starwlkers)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:33:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwlkers/pseuds/last%20kenobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun is setting on Naboo, giving the room a dusky and warm glow to it.  Any other day the sight would have been comforting and perhaps relaxing but now he is close enough to the see the cloaks that lay abandoned on the floor and there is no sight in the world that could knock his breath from his body like this. </p>
<p>Obi-Wan struggles in darkness as he fights for the light after death of his dear master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acceptance

 

It is a long walk back to the hangar. The palace halls are littered with shattered glass and the scorch marks of blasters but there is nothing but the echo of his shoes tapping against the marble ground to keep him company, nothing to keep his thoughts away. The air is still thick from battle and the Force grows clouded and tangled the closer he comes to the entry door.

The doors hang open, light filters in from the still open port. The sun is setting on Naboo, giving the room a dusky and warm glow to it.  Any other day the sight would have been comforting and perhaps relaxing but now he is close enough to the see the cloaks that lay abandoned on the floor and there is no sight in the world that could knock his breath from his body like this.

Obi-Wan makes his way to pick them from the ground, each step too heavy and too loud against floor. The weight he carries grows heavier until it is unbearable and he is face down on the ground grasping the large cloak as if it was a life line. The anger he had felt when he killed that retched, tattooed demon has long since passed and the only he has left in side of him, the only thing he can feel, is the overwhelming despair that threatens to consume his very being.

He had cried when his master died, cried as he cradled his dearest person in his arms, and cried as they carried away his body. There are no tears left in him to cry out, his chest heaves as if he is losing breath and his sobs are silent as he cries into his master’s cloak. It still holds onto his master’s presence, as if waiting to be worn once more, the scent is one that he long grown used to but it overwhelms and floods his senses.

All the things he wants so desperately to scream out are trapped, clawing at his throat and haunting him from the back of his mind. They echo and whisper around him, looking for a link (a bond) that is no longer there and never will be again.

_why master?_

_why wasn’t I fast enough?_

_why why why_

Something dark and thick is creeping over him. It coats his lungs and what is left a dying bond. It is consuming him, filling his heart with a familiar ache he had not felt since before he was a Padawan. Rage filters through his body once more, slipping into shape as if it had never left (as if it had always been there).

_fear leads to anger_

He wasn’t fearful anymore. The fear had evaporated the moment his master’s limp body his the ground only to be replaced by a rage so deep it encompassed his entire body. He had killed Maul with that rage. Rage had given him strength.

_anger leads to hate_

Yes, this dark matter inside him wasn’t just rage, it was hate. He hated the bastard who killed his Qui-Gon. He hated the bastard who trained him and he hated Qui-Gon for dying. He hated himself for not being fast enough.

_hate leads to suffering_

He was suffering, alright. The weight in chest grew and his longs seemed to struggle for air, struggle for escape from the darkness that was eating away at him. This pain in his heart unbearable and endless gripped him tight and clung to him. Becoming one with him, a part of his being and mind. He was suffering alone in a quiet room. There was no longer a master to comfort him. No bond to sooth his worries.

Obi-Wan cried into his master’s cloak. His tears disappeared into the thick fabric and his master’s scent washed over him. The Force settled down over him and for a moment he felt the phantom touch of finger caressing his cheek as if to wipe away his tears. The Force kissed his skin and cleared his mind. Obi-Wan smiled bitterly into the fabric. Focus met his thoughts and he could once more see through the darkness that had followed him.

Pain was temporary and was suffering. His master, his closet friend, was one with the Force and suffering could no longer touch him. With a deep, shaky breath Obi-Wan gathered the cloaks in his arms, cradling his master’s close to his body. The heaviness left his chest, the darkness leaving with it. His master’s memory would not be tainted by the likes of it.

Obi-Wan walked back through the empty hallways to the funeral pyre where Qui-Gon’s body lay. His master’s cloak with go with him, go to wherever the Force took men like him. The rage had long since left his body now. Replaces with the acceptance that his master had told him to make with himself.

He would not let this darkness touch his heart again.


End file.
